Love for his Mother
by YouAStupidHoe69
Summary: Hope sometimes likes to remember the best times he and his mother shared together. Warnings: Mother/Son incest, shota, rated M for a reason. I have a feeling I won't make a lot of fans with this one. Oh well.


**Incest, Time magazine-like activities. I will proably not get any fans from this. ^^; In fact, I give you all permission to flame this one if you want. :( Or enjoy it, whatevs.**

Hope sometimes liked to sneak off in the middle of the night to relieve tension. It was usually after everyone else was asleep, while he was on guard duty. He would sneak far away from the camp where no one would hear him or see him, and indulge in his darkest fantasies.

He was usually already hard by the time he got all alone. He would unzip his pants and pull them down. If it was especially hot, he would take off his scarf and jacket, leaving him in just a tank-top and boxers. And then those would be gone too.

He would always look around before he began getting really into it. Just because he enjoyed this, didn't mean he didn't know he should be ashamed. He knew he was disgusting and if anyone caught him he would surely be left behind to fend for himself. But he would die if that happened. He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready for Hell just yet.

He'd grab the base of his cock and hiss, bite his hand in an attempt to be quiet. "Thank Eden I wear gloves, or everyone would see the marks on my hands."

As he stroked and set up a rhythm, he closed his eyes and saw his mother. Nora Estheim. She was so beautiful, so kind, all Hope had ever needed. And now she was gone. He would never be able to see her again.

Hope would always say "I couldn't sleep," or "I had a nightmare." Nora, bless her soul, would never question it. Sneaking into her room every other night, it seemed, and Nora was always waiting for him.

Nora and Bartholemew slept in separate rooms. After Hope had gotten to be 2 years old, his father claimed he didn't want to see it. Hope thanked Eden that they didn't sleep together anymore. Bartholemew didn't deserve Nora. No one deserved her. She was perfect. Not even Hope deserved her, but she took care of him, she loved him anyways.

Nora was always reading some book or other when Hope opened her door, claiming to be restless or scared or sick or something along those lines. Nora would always smile at her son with that beautiful, loving, tender, perfect smile and pat her lap. Hope would always nearly run there, sometimes tripping on his excitement. He would lay his head on her lap, and his mother would still look down with that smile, just wanting her baby to be happy. That's all she wanted, was for her baby to be happy and safe.

She'd pull out her round perfectly shaped breasts, already slightly dripping milk. Hope's eyes would always light up at the sight, and Nora would smile wider, because her baby was safe and _happy _and that's all she wanted.

She'd lift his head up slightly, because her baby shouldn't have to work when he's feeling bad. Hope would press his lips to one wet nipple, and would begin to suck, drinking the thick, creamy milk that poured out, and he became a mix of tiredness and excitement that he never felt outside of this one wonderful moment with his mother.

Nora's head would always tilt back as he drank, and she would always make a small moan-gasp noise, because her baby was safe and happy and Goddess it felt good.

Hope would then sit up and push his mother down onto her back and begin on the other nipple, and Nora would grab his hair and bunch up her toes and crinkle her nose because Goddess it was so sinfully good.

And then his mother would reach down and work her son through his pants. And then her baby would moan and she was so happy because her baby was _happy_.

Sometimes, after Hope came, he would help his mother. He would move down and eat her out, but he never entered her because that was barbaric. That was something his father did to her, and it must have hurt so much. He loved his mother, he wanted her to know that, he would never hurt her.

And then Hope would come, and wipe his hands on the grass and get redressed. And he would always think. His mother was gone. Never again would he get to see his mother and love his mother the way a son should.

He realized he should still hate Snow. He should still want to kill him. Hell, Snow should be dead by now. But he can't do that now. Snow has become a big-brother figure for him, maybe like the father he never loved.

And Lightning was like his new mother. Never the real one, but close enough.

Hope always wished he could be as close to Snow and Lightning as he was to his mother. Maybe someday.


End file.
